


Agent of Chaos

by Space_and_Thyme



Series: Winter's Child [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky's keeping secrets, Gen, M/M, Past Abuse, Russia, Russian criminal underground, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Trauma, Warning: mention of car bombs, Warning: warzone, covert mission, fictional countries, marriage problems, something's wrong with Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_and_Thyme/pseuds/Space_and_Thyme
Summary: Bucky had heard the situation through a series of covert, untraceable, contacts. Ten to be precise. He still had a few contacts left over from his days with HYDRA – the double agents who valued The Soldier over his HYDRA masters. Who would feed him the intelligence that he required, in return for being kept safe of his wrath – or that of his new team. Mostly, they were people that would never be noticeable in a crowd...In which the Winter Soldier seems to go rogue.Trigger Warning: Mentions of car bombs.





	Agent of Chaos

Bucky had heard the situation through a series of covert, untraceable, contacts. Ten to be precise. He still had a few contacts left over from his days with HYDRA – the double agents who valued The Soldier over his HYDRA masters. Who would feed him the intelligence that he required, in return for being kept safe of his wrath – or that of his new team. Mostly, they were people that would never be noticeable in a crowd – a mother pushing twins in a pram, a podgy balding man with a sunburn asking for directions. There were others that were obviously on the wrong side of the law – those that just didn’t mesh with the image that Bucky Barnes now exuded. Of these was a member of an underground criminal organization known as the Zhatka, who was known in Moscow only as  _Zheleznaya Deva: The Iron Maiden_.

 

There was a history between Bucky and Iron, though he would never state who they were to each other – even after Steve calmly asked why Bucky was seen in surveillance video, taken at the back of a Zhatka run strip club, in a back alley in a dangerous part of Moscow meeting with the woman who had the short and layered dark hair and crusty leather punk jacket. At the end of the video, Bucky had turned his head, and stared into the camera with a dark, expressionless look. His jaw slightly jutted with a cold burning ire. In a blink, he lifted his Tokarev, and shot out the lens of the camera.

 

The video had been emailed to Steve by Tony – who had acquired it through JARVIS’ constant surveillance of the known internet, and the dark web.

 

It was recent – the time and date stamp was a week earlier. Even without that, it was obvious – Bucky’s hair was cut short and his beard stubble was minimal at best, simply shadowing his jaw.

 

Steve didn’t even know  _when_  Bucky had had the time to make it to Moscow – when had he left?

 

He didn’t know what to think. He knew that there must have been a reason for it all, but part of him couldn’t help but worry. While he didn’t speak Russian, he had understood what the woman had said to Bucky, shortly before he’d shot out the camera with prejudice.

 

_“Soldat ... ty nuzhen.”_

_Soldier… you are needed_.

 

When Steve saw the footage, and heard the icy tone in the woman’s voice, a wave of nausea washed over him. The man in that video, was  _not_  his Bucky. Not his loving husband, no. He saw only the cold and emotionless traces of the Winter Soldier.

 

“Who is she, Buck?” Steve tried to confront his husband with the footage.

 

Bucky watched with a disinterested expression, and hummed a non-comital sound even as the video showed himself staring into the camera before shooting it out.

 

Steve pressed again, “Who  _is_ she, Buck? What are you keeping from me?” His voice verged on a growl – born of something between fear, worry, and anger that Bucky was, again, keeping secrets from him. Some secrets didn’t make any difference, but this… this was big. She called him  _Soldat_. She called him _Soldier_ …

 

Bucky cocked his brow as he looked up a Steve- a clear and judgemental expression that stated in no uncertain terms  _‘You don’t trust me.’_

 

Steve swallowed tightly but narrowed his eyes. “Who. Is. She.”

 

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Zheleznaya Deva. An old contact.”

 

“What did she mean that the Soldier was needed –“

 

“That’s none of your concern.”

 

“I think I deserve to know –“

 

Bucky’s eyes turned cold and dead. He stared into Steve’s face, unblinking, until Steve felt his resolve waver. “I told you.” His voice was unfeeling. “It’s  _not_  your concern.”

 

It came as no surprise the following morning that Bucky’s side of the bed was empty, and cold.

 

Walking out into the kitchen, Steve found Bucky standing talking to Violet. He was dressed in travelling clothes – a dark blue tee, soft grey joggers and sneakers – non-descript. The jacket covered his metal arm, meaning he would be unrecognizable - unremarkable amongst other travellers. His go bag was at his feet. Steve’s stomach dropped.

 

“What… what are you-“ Steve swallowed, trying to find the words as Bucky turned look up at him. His face was still devoid of most emotion – and Steve felt exposed. Cast asunder from the one anchor point that he’d ever known.

 

The sun was barely rising outside – it flooded the living room and the kitchen with red-orange light that illuminated Bucky’s cold eyes with fire.

 

“I have a mission.” The answer was curt, if a little unfriendly. It felt like a knife to Steve’s heart.

 

Steve glanced at Violet, who was ringing her hands nervously – able to feel the tension between her parents like a living beast. She couldn’t meet his eye, but he nodded and turned to look at his husband again. “Where-“

 

“You don’t need to know that.” Again, his words were sharp and to the point.

 

Steve closed his eyes and counted to five in his head, before he tried again. This wasn’t Bucky – this was the last dregs of the Asset speaking, and he knew it. Bucky would never be this cold. “Okay… Can I go with –“

 

“This is not the place for Captain America.” Again, his tone was clipped, though it seemed to have softened a little. After a moment, he spoke again, this time with emotion in his voice. “It’s not the place for the White Wolf either.”

 

Steve’s brows furrowed as he snapped his eyes up to Bucky’s, but while there was emotion and apology behind the steel irises, the rest of his face remained neutral.  “What are you –“

 

Suddenly the penny dropped. Steve had seen Bucky’s blue leather still in their shared closet when he pulled himself out of bed. The gun safe had been opened and relocked – the only hint was the smell of sheared metal from the tumblers of the lock and the faint scent of gun powder that no regular human would notice. Steve looked down to the bag at Bucky’s feet, and he  _knew_. He knew that in that bag was packed black leathers and denims, tactical gear, and a form-fitted face mask.

 

Steve swallowed tightly as his mouth started to salivate with fear – the terror rising in his gullet. He thought he might vomit. “You’re going as the Winter Soldier…”

 

Bucky met his eyes gaze for gaze. “I am doing what I do  _best_ , Steven.”

 

“Bucky I don’t understand – what— _where_  are you  _going_? What’s the mission? What’s the  _target_? Bucky –“

 

“I will be home in three days.” Another brusque response. And Steve knew that he’d already lost the argument. He wasn’t talking to Bucky – he wasn’t even talking to the version of the man that was called the White Wolf. This was a backslide, back towards the past that they had both been sure was dead.

 

This was the Winter Soldier, inch for inch, steel for steel. And nothing that Steve could have done, would have prepared him for the re-emergence of the seemingly emotionless killer.

 

Bucky turned to Violet and put his hand on the back of her head. He pulled her close, and pressed his lips to her forehead, before he released her and picked up his bag. He moved to stride passed the girl, but she caught his hand. Bucky turned back to her, looking at her in quiet, emotionless, bewilderment – waiting for her to speak.

 

“ _Please_  be careful, wherever you’re going.” Violet all but begged, looking up into his cold eyes as she gripped his titanium hand. “ _Please…_ ”

 

Bucky smiled slightly, though it barely reached his eyes. “Three days,  _Rebenok_. Three days and I will be home.” He nodded his head to her, before carrying on out of the apartment.

 

Steve released a slow exhale the moment the doors of the elevator closed behind his husband. He shook his head and looked up at Violet – he knew she was scared, and he didn’t want to make it  _worse_. He forced a smile as he leaned with one hand on the breakfast bar, the other on his hip. “I have an idea…”

 

Worrying her lip, Violet barely heard him. But, she slowly turned to look at him, tearing her eyes from the elevator.

 

“It’s already Wednesday morning… how about you stay home from school while Bucky’s on his mission. He’ll be back by Saturday, and in the meantime we can have a bit of mini vacation.”

 

Violet’s brows furrowed and she glanced back towards the elevator, as though she expected Bucky to reappear and tell her that she was  _not_ to miss school. But, after a moment she nodded her head. “Okay…” she didn’t know what else to say.

 

She had a sinking sensation – something didn’t feel  _right_  about what had happened – and it wasn’t just the cold and brutal nature of Bucky that morning.  Something was looming, she just didn’t know what it was.

 

Steve glanced at the kitchen clock – it was still early, not even six in the morning. “Why don’t you go back to bed, hunny? Might as well sleep for another few hours. I’ll wake you when I’m back from my run and I’ve got breakfast, okay?”

 

Again, Violet simply nodded in silence. Chewing on her thumbnail, she walked passed Steve, heading back to her bedroom.

 

The situation was familiar to her – she’d lived through the same clipped goodbye once before. And her Dad hadn’t come back from that mission. She’d been left with her mother, and eventually it left her living on her own on the street with her dog. She just prayed, to anyone that would listen, that the same would not happen with Bucky.

 

Collapsing back into her bed, Violet dragged Precious close, cuddling the dog for comfort. The Brussels Griffon snuffled and curled up close to her – flopping her head down onto Violet’s shoulder.

 

It proved almost impossible to get back to sleep.

 

★

 

Wednesday passed with some awkwardness. While Violet loved Steve, it was no secret that Bucky was her chosen guardian. After all, it was  _that_ man that had pulled her out of the gutter and brought her into his and Steve’s life. It was Bucky that had rescued her. She loved him for it, and while she loved Steve, she’d bonded with Bucky nearly instantly. While she might have had Steve’s colouring, much of her soul was Bucky’s twin.

 

By Wednesday night, Steve couldn’t take it – not the awkwardness with Violet - that he could handle. He was tense and jumpy – he really didn’t like the turn of events with Bucky – it’s not that he didn’t trust him, he just … it wasn’t even that he needed to know where he was, he just wanted to know  _what_ had caused the sudden change back to the Winter Soldier – he’d thought that the trigger words, the programming, had been seen to. And yet the Bucky that left, despite exuding the Winter Soldier, seemed almost calmer than the man he’d met on the bridge. It terrified him in a way that set ice into his belly. Something was  _wrong._

“I know you normally do this with Bucky, but… You wanna spar?” Steve knocked on Violet’s doorframe gently, around 9 pm.

 

Violet’s brows furrowed together as she looked up from her textbook – trying to stay current with classes, despite Steve already informing her school that she would not be in until the following Monday. “Sorry?”

 

Steve shrugged a little, “If you don’t want to, that’s completely fine – I just thought I’d ask before I head down to the gym.” He smiled.

 

Violet shook her head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

 

“Oh!” Steve grinned sheepishly. “Sorry I – never mind. I asked if you wanted to spar with me, since Bucky’s not here.”

 

Violet glanced back down at the open text book. She definitely needed a break from Trigonometry, it made less sense to her than chemistry – and that was saying something, since she was proficient in languages, not science. Looking back up at Steve, she smiled. “That’d be great. Let me get changed.”

 

“I’ll meet ya down there.” He nodded his head vaguely toward the elevator, before tapping the doorframe with his palm as he pushed himself away from it with an awkward smile.

 

Violet changed into her workout clothing – black yoga leggings and a black tee shirt she’d “borrowed” from Bucky and never returned – having cut off the sleeves. It was baggy on her, but it allowed her easy movement, and she liked the print on the front:  _Make Yourself Hard To Kill_. Words to live by, to be honest.

 

Throwing her hair back into a messy bun, Violet grabbed her pink boxer’s wraps off the top of her dresser, along with her water bottle. She refilled the bottle in the kitchen, before getting into the elevator, holding the closed bottle between her knees as she swiftly wrapped her hands the way Bucky had taught her to as the elevator descended down to the gym floor.

 

When Violet stepped out of the elevator, Steve was already bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, jabbing punches at a swinging leather punching bag. He moved differently than Bucky – or at least the Bucky that had been training her, it was hard to say what the man had been like before he was drafted into the American Military. Of course, hadn’t Steve mentioned that as a kid Bucky had been the one to teach him how to fight – to box? She shook it off.

 

Steve stopped the bag with one hand as he turned to look at Violet. Smiling, he opened himself up. “I don’t actually know what you and Buck do… so I’m going to let you attack, and we’ll go from there, okay Vi?” He planted his feet a little firmer into the ground, and opened his stance, waiting for the attack.

 

Violet nodded, tossing her water bottle off to side, where it landed on a gym mat and quietly rolled away. In a flash she charged forward – speed and brute force. One fist came up to distract Steve, as the other shot out to punch him. Steve’s eyes widened, just barely managing to duck her attack as the girl went from zero to one hundred in an instant. Ducking out of the way, he side-stepped and brought his arms up to block his face as Violet sprang at him again.

 

This… wasn’t going to be as easy as he expected. He’d thought that Bucky had been training her to fight the way he’d taught Steve – all proper boxing technique. Instead it was like being attacked by an almost sixteen year old Winter Soldier. It was unnerving to say the least as Violet leaped to bring her increasing weight down behind her fist. Again, Steve threw himself out of the way, this time resorting to rolling away into a somersault before popping back up behind his adopted daughter.

 

She turned in an instant, eyes burning coldly as she remained emotionless.

 

“Stop! Stop.” Steve held up his hands.

 

Violet’s brows furrowed in confusion, as her face softened and her stance relaxed – her shoulders slouching slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

He shook his head in disbelief. “Bucky’s been teaching you  _that_?”

 

“Well… yeah?”

 

“He’s been teaching you… to fight like a brainwashed Russian assassin…”

 

Violet flared red at the bluntness of Steve’s unimpressed statement. “I asked him to.”

 

“You  _asked_  him to? Why on earth-“

 

“Steve…  I mean… I’ve not… I’ve not had the best…” she was pink again, unable to meet his eye as she looked anywhere but Steve’s face. “I know it might seem odd to you because you find peace in the way that  _you_ fight… but I wanted this. The force allows me to get out some of the aggression and anger, and compartmentalizing allows me to focus on only what’s necessary. Besides, Bucky’s got some good moves…”

 

Steve nodded, hesitantly. “I know he does… did… does?” He shook his head. “I know, but that style of fighting can be dangerous – it doesn’t take into consideration the limits of the body and the only reason Bucky can get away with that is because he’s got an increased healing rate… and because for seventy years no one cared about the damage that happened to his body.” He sighed softly.

 

How he wished he knew where Bucky was tonight – if he was safe, and why the Winter Soldier had suddenly awoken from his slumber.

 

“I know… but … this is how we always start. He lets me come at him with every bit of anger and rage that I’ve got, and we fight until I’m panting…. Then he leads me into more calculated and controlled… choreography. Honestly – he never lets me push too far.”

 

Steve sighed and nodded his head. He knew that – Bucky would never push too hard on her, because it was  _Bucky_ training her, not the Winter Soldier. Whatever the Soldier had had to do to the girls in the Red Room, was unforgivable in Bucky’s mind – he’d promised to never take it that far. And Natasha had sworn up and down that Bucky was the best coach for what Violet wanted to learn. Steve had to trust them both.

 

“I just don’t know that I’m comfortable doing this with you – I don’t want to hurt you either.”

 

“ _Please_ Steve? I’m… I’m buzzing, I need to let it out. I’m  _terrified_ , Steve! I’m so afraid for Bucky – what if he doesn’t come back?” At the end, the volume of her voice dropped. She was nothing more than a scared little girl, and Steve relaxed.

 

“I know, Vi. I know… I’m scared for him too, but I trust him. I trust Bucky – hell, I trust the Winter Soldier, as strange as that may seem. At least I trust that he knows what he is doing, and that he’s the best at what he does… otherwise he’d not have been the world’s most dangerous man for seventy years.” He exhaled slowly. “Alright… Alright, we can do it your way. But the  _moment_ you run out of energy, you tell me, alright? You tell me and we stop.”

 

Beaming, Violet nodded her head excitedly.

 

She attacked again, a moment later.

 

★

 

Thursday passed in much the same way – a mild awkwardness between Steve and Violet that they never realized existed without Bucky to put the buffer between them. They loved each other, sure – they were father and daughter, no question. But, both of them knew the other best through Bucky, and Bucky wasn’t there.

 

There was still no sign from Bucky, still no word that he’d made it to wherever it was that he had headed. It shouldn’t have unnerved Steve the way that it did – Bucky frequently went radio silent while on missions – he was constantly out of contact. After seventy years of being  _mostly_ solo on missions, the need to radio in was never really ingrained in him. Even from his days in the military, and then as a member of the Howling Commandos – radio contact was out of the question. He was a sniper, and stealth and secrecy was what kept him alive. Speaking to mission control was not part of his survival guide, and so it wasn’t part of his instinct now.

 

Still, if they’d just had an idea of  _where_  he was, it might have brought some peace to his husband and daughter.

 

Steve spent the afternoon fidgeting, while Violet attempted to read on the couch. Precious was curled up with the girl, snoring slightly against her side as Violet rested back against the arm of the furniture. Eventually, with nothing else that he could do to kill the time, Steve got up and headed towards his and Bucky’s bedroom. He grabbed his newest sketchbook – a ridiculously overpriced  _Arches_ sketchpad courtesy of Bucky’s too generous heart- off of the night stand, and grabbed a couple of pencils. Returning to the living room, he dropped himself back into Bucky’s favourite chair, relaxing at the faintly lingering scent of Bucky’s cologne and bar soap in the fabric. His shoulders eased a bit, as he brought his knees up to the chest. Steve nestled himself sideways in the car – it was difficult at his post-Serum size, but it was the way he’d always preferred to sit while drawing in their old Brooklyn apartment.

 

Opening the sketchpad, he turned the first, still blank, page out of his way and put his pencil to the second page. It was an old habit – one that refused to die. He left the first page for either a title page after the book was completed, or at least for the year or month of the book’s completion. But as he stared at the second blank page, his mind wandered. His pencil was moving before he realized it, falling into a tried and tested pattern. When in doubt: draw Bucky. So, Steve set about to conjure up what was probably around the 6500th drawing of his husband – intent on making it a good one. Intent on it being of his happy, loving, smile and those gentle puppy dog eyes.

 

What Steve ended up with, was none of that. Unbidden, something else flowed onto the page, until Steve realized that he was looking into the empty eyes and devoid face of the Winter Soldier. There was nothing in there – nothing but complete intent on fulfilling his mission. Worse yet, was that it was the Soldier’s face on  _Bucky’s_ body. The short hair lightly combed with modern pomade to keep it tamed but fluffy – a hinted at v-neck collared tee shirt, and a leather jacket.

 

And suddenly Steve realized he’d transmuted onto the page the last clear frame of Bucky in the Russian surveillance video - before he’d shot the lens out.

 

That video was going to haunt him. More than just the video – more than just his husband being completely bereft of emotion – it was the woman. Zheleznaya Deva. Something was very, very wrong about her.

 

Why had she called Bucky  _Soldat_? Why had she said the Soldier was needed? What had she told him that changed Bucky from the man who a week before that video had been swing dancing with Steve and their daughter in their living room, back into HYDRA’s dog of war?

 

Who the hell was Zheleznaya Deva?

 

Unable to stop himself, Steve put the Arches sketchpad down, and got up from the chair again. Stalking back to the bedroom, he grabbed his Stark Tech tablet from the charging station, and turned it on. Immediately he opened the video app, and scrolled to the surveillance video.

 

He’d already watched it a hundred times, he doubted that he would actually get any new information from the video – it was less than 30 seconds – long enough for Bucky to meet with the woman, nod his head in greeting. Long enough for her to speak “Soldat ... ty nuzhen.” In her cold and rich Russian voice. Long enough for the Winter Solider to look up at the camera, draw his Tokarev, and shoot out the lens.

 

Still, Steve tapped on the file, loading it immediately. He let it play through – automatically flinching as bullet destroyed the lens and the video feed, as he did every time. He let it repeat, watching it again, as his eyes trailed over the background, begging for a hint of anything more than what he’d already seen – more than what he knew from the surface of the video’s content.

 

As it repeated the third time, Steve forced himself to look away from Bucky’s cold face, though he filled half the screen. He looked toward Zheleznaya Deva, who kept her face away from the camera. Her dark hair shielded her from view, and Steve had assumed that much remained true throughout the thirty second video. But, his attention had been so completely locked on his husband, that through all the other viewings of the video, he’d missed that last second.

 

Right at the moment that Bucky drew the Tokarev, in that last split second, Zheleznaya Deva turned to look up at the lens. She’d known that Bucky was going to shoot it out.

 

In those last six frames, her face had been uncovered, and pointed towards the security camera.

 

It lasted only a flash, and Steve’s heart leaped. He had to see it again. As the video played through again, he moved as quickly as he could – all but smashing the pause button as Bucky’s quick draw began.

 

Zheleznaya Deva was facing the camera, completely open.

 

The woman was attractive, probably in her late twenties or early thirties, with oval face and a heart-like hairline complete with a widow’s peak. Dark hair, cut to the top of her shoulders and layered for texture. A very slightly Roman nose, and plump lips that seemed to be forever locked into cold if not indifferent scowl. But that wasn’t what caught Steve’s attention – none of it was.

 

It was Zheleznaya Deva’s eyes.

 

Large, slightly almond-shaped, eyes rimmed with a narrow ring of black khol, and surrounded by dark lashes. Grey irises.

 

And Steve  _knew_.

 

Even in the black and white footage, he  _knew._

 

He sank down slowly onto the bed, sitting with the tablet and its paused image held between his knees as his back slouched.

 

_‘Dear God…’_

 

 He didn’t know where to start.

 

★

 

Thursday night was a repeat of Wednesday night. Steve and Violet sparred, working out their communal worry and aggression – though Steve’s mind kept wandering. His lack of attention allowed Violet to land a staggering punch to his jaw, which would have probably broken another man’s bones. Instead, he staggered back as Violet’s eyes immediately widened in horror and she fell into desperate apologies.

 

Steve held up his hand shook his head gently. “Its fine – I’m fine. That one was my fault. I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” There was a bruise forming on his jaw, though it would be gone by the morning. “I think maybe that’s enough for tonight though, don’t you?”

 

Violet nodded quietly, eyes still wide with fear and sorrow – she’d never mean to hit Steve – she’d been confident that he’d block her or at least  _move_. It scared her, terrified her to her core. Steve was massive – bigger than Bucky (though not by that much) – and could  _definitely_ do her irreparable damage if he decided on it.

 

If he snapped and behaved like her mother had once her father was gone. Like Bucky was gone.

 

The panic was welling up in Violet, untamed, and Steve didn’t see it. He was too lost in his own thoughts that when he should have noticed the way Violet drew in upon herself and shrunk away from him, he was thinking only of the Russian woman with the grey eyes.

 

Violet barely slept that night – locking her door and cowering in bed with Precious, praying that Steve didn’t snap and want to hit her back. She  _knew_ that Steve would never do it, but trauma doesn’t always take the logical stand point. She  _knew_ that Steve had sworn to protect her against everything, just as Bucky had, but she was also used to a lifetime of being beaten, abused, gas-lighted, and bullied – all by a woman who was  _supposed_ to love her. Violet knew the lock on the door would never hold if Steve wanted to break the door down – it would be nothing for the Super Soldier. All it could do, was buy her a little time, maybe time enough to lock herself in the bathroom. Another thing she was all too used to doing.

 

Steve would never hurt Violet – there was nothing in his nature that would ever harm her, or anyone that he promised to look after – but Steve didn’t realize she was so afraid of him, or he would have tried to comfort her. Or, he would have  _tried_ to get Bucky on the phone, to talk Violet down. Bucky was always good at that – his warm and smooth voice always a balm to frayed nerves and the edges of a nearly shattered psyche.

 

★

 

Friday was the third day. Bucky promised that he would be home after three days. He’d promised.

 

But, by three in the morning on Saturday, there was still no sign of Bucky – not even a message to say that he was on the way home.

 

Steve’s heart sank as a cold well of fear started to wash over him. Bucky was never late – he  _always_ made contact after a mission, even if he didn’t keep radio contact  _during_ the operation. For Bucky to not message them, meant that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

 

Violet had spent most of the day withdrawn inside herself – barely sneaking out of her room, in fear of upsetting Steve. At least  _this_ Steve finally noticed. He’d managed to coax her out for dinner, promising her that the moment Bucky called or texted, she could call him and talk to him. Steve didn’t understand why she was so afraid of him, having only the barest understanding of her history, but he knew that Bucky’s voice would ground her – even  _if_ he was still the Soldier.

 

But that phone call never came.

 

The tension was growing and the fear was starting to gnaw at both Steve and Violet. They barely glanced at each other, but they both felt it, like a pit opening up at their feet, waiting to swallow them whole.

 

“I’m sure he’s just busy – or asleep on his flight home…” Steve swallowed tightly, though he didn’t believe it. Bucky would never, not even when running on fumes and ready to collapse from pure exhaustion,  _ever_ not call home after a mission was completed.

 

Violet didn’t believe him either. “He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?” She almost begged.

 

Steve forced a smile and nodded his head, “Of course Vi. He’s tough – always has been.” He echoed Bucky’s own words. “Had to be, to keep my ass out of trouble.” His laughter was forced, and it did nothing but worry Violet further.

 

It didn’t do much for Steve either, to be honest.

 

Not knowing what else to do, or how else to handle the situation, Steve turned the TV over from where it had been set on Netflix for the last three months, back to traditional satellite feed. It took approximately six seconds for him to stumble upon it.

 

BBC World News was airing. An emergency broadcast of a breaking story. Declan Sawyer, the lead anchor, was repeating himself.

 

“Again, there is a developing situation in the Skialoran city of Ambracia.”

 

Violet froze, slowly looking up at the TV the moment she heard  _Ambracia._

 

Declan continued. “We have received security video footage from Ambracia –“

 

BBC World’s feed switched from the high production quality of the studio video, to shaky amateur video that seemed to always come from warzones. By the looks of it, it was colour surveillance footage from a building up the street from the  _situation_.

 

The city street was devoid of most people – no one was close enough to be hurt. In the space of 20 seconds, three parked, black, SUVs exploded – the dark and acrid smoke pouring out of the upturned wreckage of the unoccupied Secret Police vehicles billowed and bloomed in the street, as a figure dressed head to toe in black and bearing what  _appeared_ to be a 50 caliber rifle, strode out of it. His face was covered – but Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He’d recognize that figure anywhere, even in the shaky and slightly blurred footage. He recognized the cold stride – He had seen that figure approaching him before - coming clear out of oblivion.

 

He was a ghost story – he who just appeared from nothing, and brought chaos in his wake.

 

Emergency sirens were already wailing – blaring the instant that SUVs were blown up.

 

As the smoke billowed and bloomed, the Winter Soldier vanished – wafting in and out of view as the smoke shielded him from viewsight. He walked with a purpose – bracing himself with his feet shoulder width apart, he brought the rifle up and took aim at the wall of the non-descript concrete building. He held still for a moment, before firing the weapon. He’d no sooner squeezed the trigger, than the concrete wall cracked and crumbled, shattering and opening up a massive hole.

 

The Soldier threw down the weapon and drew another firearm from the belt holster behind his back. He immediately stalked to the open wall – where the sound of terrified children was erupting from.

 

The video cut out, returning to Declan Sawyer sitting at his news desk – a look of shock and fear on his face. After a moment, he realized the attention was on him again, and he turned to face the dominant camera. “That video comes to us from a store owner in Ambracia – it was captured three hours ago.”

 

Steve immediately looked at the clock. Three hours ago was six am in Ambracia.

 

Violet was shaking, trembling with pure terror.

 

She was born in Ambracia.

 

“Reports are coming in that the building in that video is a Yacristan Detention centre where Skialoran Political prisons are detained by Yacristan Secret Police – while obviously these claims cannot be verified, it does change the nature of this morning’s attack – Hang on – I am receiving word that we have live coverage.”

 

Again the footage shifted, this time to a woman standing up the street from the smoking crater where the three SUVs and the detention centre bore witness to the Winter Soldier’s attack.

 

“Hello Declan – we are receiving reports that the attack was on a detention centre that has been holding Skialoran children.”

 

Steve’s throat tightened. The Winter Soldier would never stand for abuse and harm of children – even in his deepest compliance to HYDRA – Ambracia was going to be an absolute bloodbath.

                                                                                                                                                                          

“According to reports from inside the detention centre, all twenty active duty guards have been shot. The children are missing. But according to our contacts, despite the car bombings, the explosive round used on the detention centre wall, and the attack on the guards, there have been no fatalities. There is no word yet on any organization taking responsibility for this attack, nor is there any word on where the children might have gone, or who took them. It is believe that there were fifteen children total in the detention centre when the attack began this morning.”

 

Steve could barely believe his ears – the Winter Soldier had attacked – had completed his mission –  _without taking a single life._

The fear and worry in his belly settled a little – Bucky had rescued children detained by a Government who had no business with Skialoran people – Yacristans had built their country  _around_ Skialor shortly after the fall of the Roman Empire. It had amalgamated the small state of Skialor, and had imposed Yacristan views, fashion, and introduced Yacristan Orthodox Christianity to a people who were much happier with their traditional beliefs. It was a clash of cultures, and the violence welled up every few years.

 

It was always the children that suffered.

 

As the news report began to repeat – Steve pulled Violet close and enveloped her in his strong arms. He hugged her as tightly as he could, as she started crying – a release of multiple pent-up emotions.

 

The phone started trilling with an inbound message.

 

Steve looked to the phone – and instantly released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Bucky’s name and photo lit up the screen. Beneath the contact photo was the message notification. It read only two words:

 

_Coming home._

Violet looked at the phone – wanting to pick it up, to call Bucky – to hear his voice. But she knew what Ambracia was like. She knew that the situation he had willingly put himself in was dangerous. She also knew that it was only a matter of hours ago – and, though they were still scrambling in the chaos of the Winter Soldier’s attack and liberation of the captive children, that the Yacristan Secret Police would be deploying shortly.

 

The children that had been removed from the detention centre would not be safe in Skialor, not any more. Neither would their families, and the creeping horror passed through Violet, flowing with her very blood. She knew what it was like to not be welcomed in her own home country – to have to flee as a child with her family.

 

She wanted to call and hear Bucky’s voice so badly, but she was afraid. She was afraid to make contact in case it distracted him. It was likely that Bucky was  _still_ in the middle of his mission. She clung all the tighter to Steve, forcing herself not to cry or succumb to the desperate need to hear Bucky’s voice.

 

It seemed that Bucky, somewhere above Europe, had a different opinion.

 

In a moment, Violet’s Stark phone began ringing – blaring ACDC’s  _Back In Black_ at full volume. The ringtone she’d set for Bucky ages before. She scrambled, trying to pull the phone out of her back pocket and answer it as quickly as she could. Steve couldn’t help but notice the irony of the song.

 

“Bucky?!” Violet panted slightly as she held the phone with both hands at her ear.

 

If Bucky was caught off guard by her desperate greeting, he never acknowledged it. “Hi,  _Rebenok_.”

 

“Are you alright?!” Violet half shouted and half whimpered. Steve hugged her a little closer, pulling her properly into his lap as he sat back on the couch.

 

“Mission went longer than expected, sweetheart, that’s all. I’ll be home in six hours. Get some sleep – I know you haven’t been sleeping.” He was kind, but his voice was still somewhat lacking its regular warmth.

 

He was still in Soldier mode.

 

Violet swallowed tightly and nodded her head, even though Bucky couldn’t see her. “Do you want to talk to Steve?”

 

Above her, Steve perked up, hoping to speak to Bucky – he wanted to say something –  _anything_  – to make up for the tension of Bucky’s departure earlier in the week. He’d worried that he would never see his husband again, that he wasn’t coming home – until the text came through.

 

The silence dragged on for a moment, before the Winter Soldier’s cold voice spoke one word across the line.

 

“No.”

 

Bucky disengaged the call, and silence descended upon the quiet floor-wide apartment.

 

Steve found himself cast adrift – barely able to understand what had happened.

 

What was left of the night, passed slowly.

 

★

 

According to schedule, the elevator doors opened at 10 am, and Bucky strode back into the apartment as though he had never left. His earbuds were in, his pack slung over his right shoulder, hair covered by a black ball cap. He was wearing a pale grey crew neck tee shirt over dark jeans and a medium blue denim jacket. Pinned to his lapel was a small enamel pin, easily missed at first, in the style of Captain America’s shield. He tossed his pack down to the floor and pulled out his earbuds as he rolled his shoulders.

 

Steve watched from the kitchen, silently, as Bucky pulled of his baseball cap and ran his fingers back through his dark fringe. Steve didn’t know where he stood with his husband – didn’t know what had happened between them that lead them so far astray from their chosen path. But, he knew he should never have pressed Bucky about that Moscow meeting. He should have trusted Bucky – should have left it alone when he’d heard  _Soldier… you are needed._

 

He wished he could go back and stop himself – but if he could go back, he’d change more than just that encounter. He’d have – well, there was no point wishing that he could change the past now.

 

Steve sighed softly as he lowered his eyes – Bucky was home but the divide between them hadn’t been wider in the last three years. He couldn’t stop himself, he murmured quietly, “I love you…”

 

Bucky looked, eyes meeting across the room. He was still not gazing at Steve with the warmth and light of love that normally glimmered in his eyes. He didn’t answer as he met Steve’s eyes.

 

Steve wilted, unable to bear the crushing weight of Bucky’s cold anger. Anger he could take – fire and passion he could withstand. But the cold distance of Bucky’s barren heart was more than he could withstand.

 

Bucky’s anger had never been cold before the war. His irritation and annoyance erupted into a few moments of shouting, always originating in worry and panic.

 

But, this was not panic and worry.

 

After a moment Bucky’s smooth, whisky, voice broke the weighted silence. “You should have trusted me.”

 

“I know, Buck. I’m sorry, you’re right. I should have –“

 

“When, in three years, have I  _ever_  given you reason to not trust me?”

 

Steve shook his head. “Never, Buck…”

 

“Then why this time.” There was no question, only a tired but calm statement.

 

“I… because I was scared that the Winter Soldier was back – that something had triggered him in your mind and that I was losing you. I was afraid that –“

 

"I told you, the Winter Soldier, as you met him, is  _dead_."

 

"I know, but I was afraid that-"

 

“You thought Zheleznaya triggered me.”

 

Steve released a slow exhale, trying to keep himself calm. “I did.”

 

“I have no trigger commands left, Steven. No words that will make me  _ready to comply_. I went, as the Winter Soldier, by my own hand.”

 

“I know…” Steve continued to stare at the top of the breakfast bar – unable to meet his husband’s icy eyes.

 

“Zheleznaya Deva is a contact – nothing more. She gave me the intelligence regarding the Angelwood Detention Centre.” Bucky crossed the distance between himself and Steve where he stood in the open concept kitchen. He folded his arms over his broad chest.

 

Steve lifted his eyes, finally, stared back at Bucky – gaze for gaze. He found his voice, found his courage. “I know who she is, Bucky…”

 

Bucky quirked on dark brow as he watched Steve intently.

 

“I know who Zheleznaya Deva is.”

 

“No. You really _don’t_.” Bucky cut the discussion short.

 

“Bucky?” Violet’s timid voice came from the hallway, and Bucky immediately turned to face her.

 

His cold shell fell away as he grinned, seeing her face. “ _Rebenok!_ ” he threw his arms open for her, as he crouched slightly.

 

Violet lit up, like a Christmas tree, when she saw his open stance. She ran as fast as she could, and threw herself into Bucky’s embrace – locking her arms around his shoulders and burying herself into his chest. She squeezed him as tightly as possible – gripping him as though letting go would mean losing him forever.

 

Bucky pulled her up off of her feet as he leaned backwards, hugging her tightly. “Shh… Shh hunny, I’ve got you. You’re okay.” He nuzzled her ear through her hair as he held onto her, easily setting her back onto her own feet.

 

Violet eased her grip, but didn’t let go of Bucky, instead conforming herself to stay with her cheek laid against his breast. Listening to his heart beating strongly beneath her ear. “You saved the kids…”

 

“Yes, I did. They’re safe- being scattered with their families throughout Europe with new names – they will never have to fear for their lives again. But unfortunately it means that Skialor is lost to them.” He sighed softly.

 

Violet shook her head, “They’re safe… and I bet they’ll never forget the man who saved them.” She smiled up at him, eyes shining with appreciation.

 

Bucky leaned down, and kissed her forehead softly. "I called in a few favours, yeah."

 

Violet peeked over Bucky's shoulder, and looked towards Steve, who wouldn't look at his husband and daughter. Her brows furrowed a little, as she looked back up at Bucky's face. She nudged him lightly with her elbow, before hissing softly. "Steve's been out of his mind worryin' about you." 

 

Bucky sighed softly and eased his grip from Violet as he nodded his head. He knew, and he knew that Steve was sorry for what he'd done. Truthfully, Bucky wasn't angry any more, it just bothered him that Steve didn't trust him enough to know the difference between  _HYDRA controlled Asset,_ and  _Bucky Barnes: the Winter Soldier._

 

Pulling away from Violet, Bucky turned back to face Steve. He stood there, still, waiting for his husband to look up at him again. Feeling eyes on himself, Steve slowly looked up - spotting Bucky standing a few feet away and watching him intently. And then he saw the look on his husband's face - Bucky was smiling, ever so softly. The hard edge was gone from his eyes, as he opened up his arms, welcoming an embrace.

 

The air seemed to rush out of Steve's lungs, and then back in as he  _finally_ recognized the love of his life. He threw his arms around Bucky's waist and hugged him, lifting him up into the air without warning. 

 

Bucky's eyes widened as he gripped Steve's shoulders, finding himself off of his feet. He couldn't help but laugh as Steve squeezed him. "I missed you too, baby."

 

★

 

Steve rested back against the pillows piled against the headboard, with one arm under his head. The other was wrapped around Bucky’s bare shoulders as his husband lay with his head on Steve’s chest. His fingertips lightly stroked up and down Bucky’s metal deltoid, brushing over the interlocking segments as the titanium arm draped over Steve’s waist. Bucky’s flesh hand was slotted between Steve’s thighs, laid against the inside of his knee as they held each other close, basking in the afterglow.

 

It was late, passed Midnight. Violet had collapsed out of pure exhaustion hours before. It wasn't as easy for the two Serum-enhanced men. Besides, they'd had an affair to reignite.

 

Steve broke the tranquil silence after a few moments. “We’re going to have to talk about her, you know…”

 

“Vi?” Bucky hummed tiredly as he shifted his weight and snuggled closer to Steve, fingers absently stroking the inside of his knee.

 

Steve paused for a moment, not really wanting to disturb the peace that had descended upon them – but it was inescapable. “No, Zheleznaya Dev—ah!”

 

Bucky turned his face in towards Steve’s neck, and sank his teeth into the dense flesh of his Trapezius. His sharp canines _nearly_ piercing the skin as Steve’s shock turned into a soft moan.  He smirked to himself as he swung his leg over Steve’s naked hips, straddling him as he braced himself with his hands on Steve’s chest. Bucky grinned down at his husband.

 

The subject was dropped, for tonight at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep... I know this one wasn't fluffy like the others. As much as I love the fluff, there's too much past trauma between these three that needed to be viewed, just a little. I just wanted to give a little more insight into Violet, and at the same time explore Bucky's dual personas as a hero and an antihero.


End file.
